Chances are this won't be interesting to you.

Today I woke up in my bottom bunk taco bed. Taco? because my roomate and I were the one's to make our beds into bunk beds and we didn't have the bolt-twisters to flip my frame SO my mattress lays on top of the metal lip SO the sides come up while the middle sinks in. Hence, the taco effect. Tacos are surprisingly comfortable, though. I pressed snooze a few too many times. I realized this and jumped up and went to the sink, an exhausting four steps from my bed. Oh dorms... I flipped on George, the light above the sink, and went into the bathroom. When I came back out George still hadn't lit up. "GEORGE!!" and I hit him several times. (We named him George because I think it's a fun name to yell) This seems to wake him up like coffee would a groggy 30-year old. George finally decides to shine and I can now see myself in the mirror, "oof." Second day hair, which is better than clean hair. I arrange it first thing, never having a routine to my morning. I don't even have a shower routine.

Ok what do I want to wear? I own about a thousand t-shirts but I haven't been in the mood for them this school year. I pick out this striped thing that reminds me of working the art office for some reason and I match it with an orange tank top for under-flash and some white shorts that have been accidently dyed a light yellow. (Always hand wash tie-dye things separately) That done I finally give in and shave my legs a little. Why do I bother, is anyone really going to notice? ok make-up (eye-liner today!), jewelery (these earings and this necklace - gold), these shoes'll work (they're starting to tear). Done! out the door. Dangit! forgot my phone. Amber calls this act of leaving and realizing you've forgotten something and having to go back "Pulling a Teysha." The older I get the more Teyshaish I become.

My bag's extra heavy because my art history book that I have yet to crack is nestled in all its procrastinatory glory between my spanish book and 3-subject (handy!) notebook. Having a bag that goes down further than the hem of my shorts makes me feel sort of skanky. I've got my favorite watch back on my wrist after a week or so of it being in Kayla's car. It survived getting wet and living in that scary under-the-car seat area! I've got 4 minutes to walk to art history, thank goodness it's close. In the art building I can hear the good 'ol Jill Carrington has started right on time (maybe early?) and I get to walk in and collect stares for being "late." Ok we have a seating chart in here so why is someone in my spot?! That is MY spot! I like that spot. It's three rows back and on the aisle's edge so I don't have to pick crotch or butt when I slide past people. But today I pick crotch and while I'm in the process of shimying I mouth/whisper to my supposed-to-be neighbor "did we switch seats??" and he mouthed, "no.." while his face said, "I have no idea what happened and I'm wondering the same thing." The girl who's in his spot smiles at me... Ok..? I just sit down and get out my notebook, art history is subject #2. Crazy how placement makes us so comfortable.

The guy who sits next to me, er, who sits next to whoever is supposed to sit here, comes in after me and plops down and squeeks out the desk portion of the chair. He's eating something, and making weird dry smacking sounds, like an ostrich eating a biscuit. I want to offer him my water. I see a foily packaging out of the corner of my eye and know it's a pop-tart, probably the generic brand. They tend to have more crust. I choose to pay attention to Jill's parrot-like squaking and ignore him and my seat placement.

From that class I head over to Psychology where my class-friend Miranda has decided to scoot over a chair. Ha, ok I can handle this. I sit down in the seat that has always been to my right and casually, jokingly, but secretly menacingly mention to Miranda that she's moved over again (yes, this is not the first time). She's like "oh I just like to be in the center." It's then that I notice that the screen we watch powerpoints on is indeed now smack-center in front of us. Way to go Miranda, I feel off-centered but centered at the same time. This is an interesting feeling. Maybe I should ask my Psych teacher about it. She may blame it on terminal buttons or the corpus colossus in my brain. I won't understand at all.

Now I have an hour break and I lunch, starbucks, and study. Then I go to spanish where Dr. Recinos says all his "j" sounds as "y"s and visa-versa. I love it every time. "Clase, eef joo have any suyesteeons please e-MAIL them tu me. I know you have hard maydiors and joo may need some estra help in espanjeol." He's legit.

I cram in the library, alone, quietly.
I take my make-up art history exam alone, quietly. In a small room with a whole wall of drawers. Full of old slides. "We've gone digital," says Jill Carrington, "so we just keep everything in here now and use this computer for the information instead."
Hearing that makes me somewhat sad? I don't know... I miss tangible things. Or maybe I don't, but I think I will soon. Books, CDs, people... Now online.

And here I am: online. I'm trying just to tell you about my day but I can't seem to get anywhere. I could just talk to a real person about it but nothing significant happened. Nothing big anyway, just lots of little things. Little things that make life... _________ (I couldn't think of a word. interesting? used it. life? cliche. worth it? too abstract. All are cheap shots.) (oh I know maybe a metaphor? they make things a little more tangible. Oh I've used tangible already. Ok wait I don't need to sum up life into one word yet.

Ask me on my death bed.)

The other day

I used a pencil instead of a pen.

-stretch me-

I wish I was in a certain place right now,
certainly not here.
There are certain people I'd rather be with
other than my uncertain self
and the others, for certain.
But there's a certain face
and a certain place
that I have to give a certain amount of space.
I'll just breath here,
in this certain spot,
and certainly it will get better after a certain amount of time.
I'm just not for certain.